


1AM

by quartzguts



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Melancholy, happy bday ignis!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22601557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartzguts/pseuds/quartzguts
Summary: Noctis has always loved listening to that voice. He loves it when Ignis praises him, loves it when he scolds him, loves it when he drunkenly talks nonsense for hours long after Gladio and Prompto have gone to bed and it’s only the two of them, alone in the world, sharing a dingy couch in the middle of nowhere.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 5
Kudos: 73





	1AM

The beer is a fine buzz in the back of his mind. Noctis hums, enjoying the gentle sway of the room as Ignis blabbers on about something or other next to him. The hotel’s AC is cool, a nice compliment to the unseasonably warm Duscaean night blooming outside. The room’s only window is dirty, but the crescent moon is so bright Noctis can see it even through the matted glass; it’s a yellow sliver of light, surrounded on all sides by the stars, hanging in the sky far above the world. He gets distracted trying to count the constellations, beginning again and again as he loses count and has to start over from square one.

Ignis is still talking. Noctis has no idea what he’s saying - something something cooking, something something baking - but he listens anyways, letting Ignis’s low, accented voice fall over him in waves. Noctis has always loved listening to that voice. He loves it when Ignis praises him, loves it when he scolds him, loves it when he drunkenly talks nonsense for hours long after Gladio and Prompto have gone to bed and it’s only the two of them, alone in the world, sharing a dingy couch in the middle of nowhere. Here they aren’t a prince and his advisor, just two people with beer bottles laying at their feet and a low, flickering ceiling lamp above their heads.

The light goes out again, leaving the room in darkness, only to come back on mere moments later. Prompto murmurs in his sleep, curling further into Gladio. Noctis thinks it’s cute. He’s glad they’re getting along so well now. He can remember a time when Prompto was afraid of Gladio, before he’d learned that the only person the Shield is interested in picking on is Noctis.

They’d fallen asleep after practically inhaling more alcohol than Noctis dared have, but Ignis, despite drinking steadily at their pace, had pushed on. The moon rose, the stars shimmered, and Noctis had nursed one, two, maybe three bottles as Ignis downed them like they were nothing. If not for his flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes, Noctis probably wouldn’t have been able to tell he was drunk.

He inches closer, the couch creaking, his limbs feeling comfortably heavy and his skin just slightly too hot for his black shirt and cargo pants. He snuggles right up next to Ignis, pressing their bodies together, resting his head on Ignis’s shoulder. Ignis smiles, his eyes curious behind his glasses, and Noctis leans in a bit more.

“What are you doing?” Ignis asks. He shifts around so they’re facing each other. Noctis catches sight of the silver skull pendant hanging around his neck, the one Noctis had given him ages ago, and laughs.

“Happy birthday, Specs,” he says, still laughing. “Got you a present. Want it?”

“Noct, you needn’t have,” Ignis starts, but the way his lips curl around his name has Noctis leaning in, bringing their mouths together in something so uncoordinated and rough it couldn’t be called a proper kiss. He licks at Ignis’s lips, tasting the beer there, and hums.

He presses his body against Ignis’s side. “Well? D’you like it?”

“I love it,” Ignis murmurs into the space between them. “I love _you_ , above everything else in the world.”

Noctis makes a happy sound in the back of his throat. He leans in for another kiss, their second, and Ignis meets him halfway. They stay like that, trading kisses, Noctis practically sitting in Ignis’s lap, and he knows in the morning this will end. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to do this without the liquid courage backing him up, and Ignis will probably declare it a temporary break in decorum and pull away. That is, if he even remembers.

But right now they have tonight, and it’s Ignis’s birthday, so Noctis wants to give him everything. His vision is doing something funny, though, blurring at the edges. He thinks he falls asleep. It’s okay, because Ignis follows him into his dreams. They walk through rays of banana-yellow moonlight together, skipping over the stars in the sky, and Ignis names the constellations as they pass by. Prompto and Gladio continue to sleep in their hotel room, the war rages somewhere far away, and the thick clouds hanging over Lucis make it so they can’t see the ruins of Insomnia.

“Stay with me, Specs,” Noctis says as they fall back onto a bed of starlight. “Please?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Ignis answers. The words sound real, and for a moment Noctis is aware of a bed beneath him and a glass of water being pressed against his lips. He comes out of the dream only partially, to the sight of Ignis tucking him in and the sound of Gladio snoring on the other side of the room.

“Should take care of yourself,” Noctis slurs. “You’re drunker than I am.”

“If you say so, Your Highness.” Ignis lays a kiss on his forehead. “You’re so warm…”

Noctis smiles. He feels like he should say something else, but it’s getting harder and harder to think as sleep struggles to take him back. “G’night,” he finally manages.

“Sweet dreams, Noct,” Ignis says, and it all fades back to the night sky.

\---

The next morning, predictably, Ignis shows no indication that he remembers the previous night. Either he really was that drunk, or he believes if they don’t talk about it their feelings will just go away. Noctis lets it happen. This is how they’ve been for a long time, now; never talking, only feeling, and always, always suffering for it.

When they head out alone around lunchtime to find ingredients, Ignis takes his hand firmly. Noctis startles, but quickly falls into line beside him, relishing in the feeling of Ignis’s thumb rubbing circles into his palm.

“This is a bad idea,” Ignis murmurs as they kneel to inspect a patch of wild beetroot. “You’re to be married soon. There’s no way this will end happily.”

Noctis sighs. “I know. Can’t we… it’s okay as long as it’s just for now, right?”

Ignis squeezes his hand. “You know well it isn’t.” There’s a pause. “But I suppose for the next few weeks, perhaps...”

It’s enough of an agreement for Noctis. They take the long way back to the hotel, and if they steal a few more kisses on the way, no one has to know.

**Author's Note:**

> happy bday ignis, here's some angst lite™


End file.
